


Supertinywords' Dick and Damian Week 2019

by Onlymostydead



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Family Bonding, Friendly banter, Gen, Growth, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Hurt/Comfort, Murder, fashion - Freeform, fear toxin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: A series of oneshots focusing on Dick and Damian! From Batman and Robin beyond.





	1. Dynamic Duo/Nightwing and Flamebird

Dick had to be honest: he had been extremely afraid taking on Damian as his Robin. Bruce was dead, Tim was off the rails as far as he was concerned believing that he was alive, Cass was gone, Stephanie was who knows where most of the time, and Duke? Well, he was just trying his best on the day shift. No, Dick wasn't getting any help as Batman. Worse, Jason was in one of his 'rough patches' which meant the mantle of Batman - which he never wanted to begin with - was being contested.

And on top of all that, was Damian.

He was well trained, sure. Well trained to be a League of Shadows assassin that relied heavily on surprise and lethal tactics. There was other knowledge there too, but that was what he preferred, and what had become his first instinct. Bruce only had so much time with him before, well... Yeah. 

And, as much as Dick hadn't thought of it in the moment, how much help would he have been able to offer? Damian was different from all of them in a big way. Fighting wise, but also...

Tim's beginnings were wholly not athletic, which was a complete one-eighty from Damian. Maybe that was the difference between them: a detective learning to fight, and a fighter learning to sleuth. Either way, the boys couldn't be more separate. Damian had a rigid routine that he followed to the letter every single day, and Tim had more of a sloping pattern to his weeks. Damian ate three meals at normal times, Tim rarely showed up to the table at all, just snacking the entire day.  
Which meant that he missed one of the funniest things Dick had realized early on about Damian: he was insanely good at catching thrown food in his mouth. It had started out as one of his stories from back when he was a Titan, and ended with various breakfast cereals being hurled across the dining room. Damian swore up and down it never happened, but... That was one of Dick's first realizations that, underneath all of Ra's and Talia's training, this was still a normal eleven year old boy.

Stephanie was rarely around, considering how busy she was and how she and Damian got along, but if Dick had to guess their biggest difference, it was humor. She herself wasn't all smiles and rainbows, not even close. But if there was one thing Stephanie liked to do, it was being able to make a joke out of a situation. It was something Dick had appreciated with her as Robin: getting some of that humor back. But, for the most part, Damian tried to stay serious. Everything about him, from the scowl on his face to the way he clicked his tongue, was an imitation of either Bruce or Ra's... Neither of whom were really known for their incredible senses of humor. When he did try, the jokes tended to be, well... Rude.  
But, over time, Dick had watched his sense of humor come a long way from the uptight little boy he started out with. At first he would have threatened death on anyone who made fun of him, but now? He had learned how to laugh at himself. It had taken a while for him to feel okay with laughing at all, and a long process, but hearing him try to suppress giggles on Friday movie nights? Was like music to Dick's ears.

Let alone Jason... Their upbringings almost couldn't have been more different. With how many stark contrasts there were between the two of them, their similarities almost stuck out in a more jarring way. Neither of them could back down from a challenge. Both of them thought in black and white boxes of good and evil, just with different definitions on the two. Neither one could stand an untidy room.  
They never got along while Damian was Robin, sure, but once they were both a couple of former Robin's occasionally being stuck in Wayne Manor together? Dick had been amazed at what fast friends they were. And, as it turned out, they shared the same taste in Video Games. Go figure.

But, as a whole, when it came to being Robin...

"I do not feel the title suited me." Damian admitted, swinging his legs over the rooftop they sat on. "I fought for it at first, but... Promise you will not tell this to Drake?"

Dick chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his hair a little. "I promise. What is it, 'lil D?"

"Robin was his when I took it, and I recognize that now." He frowned, looking out at the city. "And I do not think I ever quite... Fit. I do not know what it is, but... Even in the midst of the riots, when everyone was Robin, I felt that I was still pretending to be something I was not. Is that stupid?"

"Not at all. You know I felt the same about being Batman."

"Yes, of course." Damian let out a deep breath, his breath making a cloud of vapor in the cold air. "And yet we were the Dynamic Duo. And we did not do horribly."

"We really didn't."

"I still would not say we did well, though." He added.

Dick frowned, shrugging a little bit. "I wouldn't say so."

"Why is that?"

It took s moment to think about it, looking at Damian in front of him, thinking back those five years it had been since they first started out. Damian was sixteen now, almost seventeen, working with Bruce somewhat as Flamebird. And Dick himself was pretty much on the same basis with him, but as Nightwing. What kind of connection that made, he didn't know, but along the way...

"We both needed it to grow." Dick finally decided, meeting his eyes. "You needed to realize that you could be good-"

"Harsh."

He let out a little laugh. "But true. And I think that being Robin, a suit with a reputation, helped you find that in yourself first, so that you could eventually find who you were. Did that make any sense?"

"Yes... In a way." Damian nodded. "It was a necessary step to where I am now."

"Exactly. And... Honestly? I needed to grow up."

"I take back what I said about you being harsh on me. Apparently, you are simply coming for everyone's lives today."

"Apparently." Dick smiled, letting his eyes fall down to the street below. "If I wasn't Batman, if I didn't have the responsibility of the role, I'm not sure what I would've done."

"Then I suppose it made us both better, then." Damian shrugged again. "I am glad we have moved past it, though. You seem happier now that you are not so weighed down."

"Yeah, that was a lot on my plate all at once." 

"I meant the cape, but sure." He grinned. "The responsibility, too."

Dick snorted, elbowing him lightly. "The cape did suck, but..."

They both fell silent for a bit, looking down and out at the city, the lights passing, the people coming and going... A lot had changed in the past five years. Buildings had fallen and been brought back up different. People had lived and died, moved out and in. Different villains had come and gone, leaving collateral damage in their collective wakes...

But it was still the same people watching over it all, even if they weren't recognizable. Because Dick knew that he almost couldn't recognize Damian as the stiff, scared kid he was saddled with after Bruce's death, and Dick guessed that it was the same way with him.

"Grayson?"

"Yeah?"

Damian bit his lip the way he did when he was thinking; something Dick didn't think he had copied from anyone. "I am not weighing you down, am I?"

"Not a chance, Dami." Dick shook his head, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. "You may not be my Robin anymore, but you're family, and there's no way you weigh me down."

"What kind of 'family' do you think of me as?"

"What do you mean?"

"Am I your brother? Strange cousin?"

Dick couldn't help but laugh. "Don't know if there's a word for it. I guess weird brother-nephew hybrid?"

He cracked a smile. "And you are a strange uncle-dad-brother."

"Dad? You better not tell Bruce, he might get jealous."

Damian rolled his eyes. "He can get jealous all he wants; I couldn't care less."

Yeah, he had come a long way.

And in Dick's opinion? They were a hell of a lot better as Nightwing and Flamebird then they ever were as the original Dynamic Duo.


	2. Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Dick have to get ready to attend the next big Wayne Gala, but Damian is really not having Dick's fashion choices today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but I love Danian who enjoys fashion, it just makes me really happy.
> 
> Also, by making Kate Kane (Bruce's cousin through his moms sister) Jewish, they inadvertently made Bruce Jewish.

Damian clicked his tongue. "Grayson, you are not wearing that."

While Dick had heard that many, many times from Damian, normally he saw it coming. Cargo shorts, polka dotted tops, bright pink hot pants - whatever it was, he deserved it. He usually didn't say it when he was wearing a suit.   
They were both getting ready for the next big Wayne Gala, which, of course, Bruce wouldn't be able to attend because he threw out his knee on patrol. So Dick was roped into coming with Damian.

He didn't mind it, really. The people was atrocious; the rich in Gotham were obnoxious at the least, cruel and power hungry at the most. But making pleasant conversation was an important skill, he had supposed... And one Damian needed some practice at. 

What he didn't need practice at, apparently, was dressing himself well. That had shocked Dick a fair amount since he had been here with them: he had an apparent affinity for fashion. At first it had been designing his own Robin suit, then wearing things other than black athletic wear during the day, complaining about the school uniforms 'drab colors.' Over time, he learned to wear color, and now they had reached this point: a light pink suit with a black button down and tie. It was interesting, for certain, but definitely didn't look bad. He looked very sharp.

Damn, he sounded like Alfred. Sharp? Next he would be scolding him for having unruly hair, and for not finishing all the food on his plate.

"What's wrong with it?"

Damian rolled his eyes, as if the problem with his suit was the most obvious thing in the world. "You are wearing a plain black suit."

"And?"

"Boring." He clicked his tongue again. "And it is springtime, besides. I am sure I can find something better."

"Dami, we have to be down in the grand hall in an hour... Also, you're wearing black."

His face screwed up into a squished scowl, like a miniature, squishy version of Bruce. "The black on my outfit looks good, and it isn't so cliche that I would look like an Easter arrangement. As for the time constraint... You have some interesting shirts, I am certain something will work."

"People have told me an awful lot that interesting isn't necessarily good."

"I am looking through your wardrobe. I will be the judge of that." Damian declared, skirting around Dick to search through the shirts he had hanging up near the back of his closet, behind most of his old undercover things. "This is certainly an option..."

Before long, a pile had amassed of what Damian considered to be Dick's 'most interesting without being garish or tacky' shirts, sorted from 'most preferable' to 'worst.' On the preferable side were mostly light colors or delicate prints, all things that would look far more springtime than the plain suit he was wearing now. Preparing himself for the long haul with Damian's fashion decisions, Dick shouldered off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, followed by his tie.

Come to think of it, the black suit did make him feel like he was going to a funeral. Maybe a little bit brighter of colors would be a good idea.

"Try them on, starting with this side." He instructed him, handing over his favorite of the shirts - a sky blue one with a soft white pattern almost lacing over it. "Do not roll your eyes at me, Grayson."

"They're all my shirts, you know."

"That does not meant they all fit you well." Damian pointed out. "The amount of ill-fitting clothing you own is beyond me."

Beyond me. At least he wasn't the only one starting to talk like Alfred.

"Useful for undercover work, though." Dick reminded. "And this one is a little tight in the armpits."

Annoyed, he handed him the second best choice - a solid petal pink, a couple shades darker than Damian's suit. "Yes, but keeping the undercover wear away from the normal clothing is important, so that you do not accidentally mix the two."

"To some degree."

"Yes, yes, whatever. That shirt is too short, I can already tell. Take it off." Damian's mouth pinched into a frown, already holding out the hanger for the third choice. "And all the undercover work I have to do includes pretending to be a child."

"...Damian, you are aware that you're thirteen, right?"

He stuck out his tongue at him. "That one fits decently... Turn around. Now lift your arms."

Dick did as he was told, earning a nod of approval from Damian. "Alright, now I need to..." He snapped a photo of Dick. "I am going to go look for something. I will be right back."

As he went to search for whatever it was Dick had been considered lacking, he examined himself in the mirror. This shirt - a pastel, floral, long-sleeved button down - really did fit him nicely. Strangely enough, he wasn't quite sure when exactly he had gotten it. The closest he could figure was an Easter party or something, but with Bruce's mom having been Jewish, he wasn't really in a big hurry to celebrate Easter. Perhaps Alfred had gotten it for him in the springtime a while back, but that would mean he was living in the manor, which meant it was... Old. Very old. Dick didn't want to think about how many years that had been.

"You will wear this." Damian came back into the room with a charcoal grey... Ascot? "Here, I will help you with it, since you seem utterly incapable of dressing yourself."

Dick rolled his eyes. "You know, just because you're better at it-"

"I am not just better, we are on completely different tiers."

But, of course, he was still himself. Everything was about being the best. 

"Alright." He smiled, letting Damian do what he would with the scarf. 

In a moment he had fixed it around his neck, artfully tied, just right with the collar of his shirt. Damian retrieved his blazer from the back of the chair, holding it out for Dick to shrug on.

"Mm, I do not like the black, it is too harsh. Can we find one that fits you in grey?" He was already back in Dick's closet, pawing through the dust covers in the back. "This is nice, will it fit you still?"

"I'll certainly try it on." 

Damian turned around as Dick changed into the second suit, hanging up the first one as he went. If there was one thing Alfred had instilled in him from a young age, it was that, at the very least, formal wear needed to be taken care of properly. How Bruce had avoided learning that, having been raised by Alfred, was beyond him.

But the suit fit. Quite well, actually, which was surprising, since Dick knew that it was one he got in his senior year of high school. It was only memorable because of the impressive stain he got on the front at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Which, of course, Alfred worked out like it was nothing. Now, even though Dick knew about it, he almost wondered if it was the same suit. There was no sign of the stain anywhere.

A bit embarrassing to fit a suit from high school so well, but it looked good. Even in the shoulders, which meant it had definitely been too big for him then. The sleeves, too, hit just the right spot on his wrists, revealing a little bit of his shirt cuff.

"Perfect." Damian declared. "I found these socks, and you will wear these shoes, and this belt."

As Dick added the finishing touches, he could tell he was pleased with it. Of course, Damian wouldn't actually smile; that would be too far. But there was a clear difference in his face, once he knew what he was looking for.

"Am I presentable now?"

Damian gave a little nod. "I will no longer be embarrassed to be seen with you in public, anyway."

Dick grinned. "I guess I'll just have to embarrass you another way, 'lil D."

"Alright, alright." He rolled his eyes. "Before you do that... No, I think you are good. Just wear the watch you had on earlier."

"So you're telling me I did something right?"

Damian gave him a bored, flat look, then started to slow clap. "Congratulations. You did not get a zero on the test. You got a five."

"Out of...?"

"One hundred."

"Really?" Dick raised an eyebrow. "So I had suit totally wrong, which was only two pieces..."

"Then tie, shirt, cuff links, shoes, socks, and belt." Damian listed. "So that is actually ten pieces, you get a ten, not a five."

"Okay. Should we be making sure everything is ready?"

"Fix your hair, it is unruly." He said, in true Alfred fashion. "Then we will be ready for the paparazzi."


	3. Fear gas/Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian doesn't quite get his gas mask on in time, and ends up getting hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious graphic depictions of violence warning! Also, attempted suicide! Please be warned.

Damian's skin felt hot, too hot, like it was summer all of a sudden and not a frigid January night like he had thought. The air seemed thick and muggy, like it was the middle of August down by the docks.

But he wasn't by the docks, that was for sure. He didn't recognize the exact street he was on, but the ground beneath him was the signature cracked and pitted concrete of Gotham city, and the buildings surrounding him looked like they were one minor earthquake away from total collapse. They were apartments, he could tell even from the outside, but inexplicably sagging... Almost like those Todd had described in his upbringing. How strange. He could have sworn...

Was he sure the docks weren't nearby? A breeze hit hit face, wet and misty. He breathed in, but-

Damian covered his mouth and nose, coughing, doubling over to gag at the smell. He had expected the smell of salt, or maybe fish, but not the metallic scent of blood, the stench of rot. Bile rose up in his throat. To smell that strongly...  
On edge, Damian started looking around. He couldn't find anything, though. He could find nothing at all. The buildings seemed to sway in the wind, the air growing rancid like rotting flesh, swarming with flies. Covering his mouth with his cape, he kept searching. Perhaps the source was in one of these buildings-

"Hello, Damian." Ra's voice was cold as ice, making the most feel as if it had frozen to his skin.

"Grandfather? What are you doing here?"

He laughed, tipping back his head. It rolled clean off, leaving the body decapitated, but still it remained upright, brandishing a sword. He had died like this before, but-

No, the body remained more than upright. Ra's was still alive.

Damian couldn't move. He couldn't move as the body charged forward, as it skewered him clean through with his sword. It was just like before, like Heretic. He could feel the dryness of the air now, the burn in his lungs as he panted for air, the all consuming pain replaced by numbness swimming through his chest, weighing down his head.

His vision went black.

But this time, when he awoke, pain seared alway at his whole body. All he could see was green, green, the Lazarus pit burning his eyes and mouth, making him cough and sputter. His lungs felt as if they were filled with fire.   
But Grandfather was there, handing him a sword. He didn't want to take it, he didn't want to-

But he did. He reached out and took the sword... And with it he struck down his mother where she stood.

Then his father, standing just as still as she had, eyes wide in fear and shock.

Then Drake, and Todd, and Cassandra, and Thomas, and Jonathan, and everyone else he had cared about. No matter how much he fought his body, telling it to stop, trying to turn the blade on himself, anything to stop it, he couldn't he couldn't he- 

Grayson was standing in front of him. They were back on the street with the apartments that teetered in the wind, and the stink of rotten meat was even more putrid than before. He stood, just like the others had, completely still.

Behind him were the bodies. All of those he had killed, piled up in one massive heap. They could have been there for a week, for how they looked, staring at him with empty eyes. He wanted to force himself to look away, but he couldn't. More and more seemed to join them as the seconds ticked by.

"You did this." Dick said to him, taking a step forward. "You did this!"

This time, it was he who could not move.

"We were right all along. You couldn't be trusted." He spat at his feet, tears welling up in his eyes. "I bet you planned this the whole time, didn't you? How could you?"

"Grayson, I-" Damian took a step back, choking on his words. "I-"

Grayson shook his head, shoulders dropping. "Go with him. That's where you belong."

Ra's cold, cold hand landed itself on his shoulder, curling around it like an icy claw.

He couldn't. He couldn't go back. He killed them, all of them, and now- and-

Damian reached into his utility belt, grabbing a batarang. This was the only thing he could do, he could only-

"Damian!" Grayson's voice cried out, just as he started to slice his wrist.

Then the buildings collapsed, and he fell to the concrete. He was trapped, suffocated. The only air to breathe was full of dust and flies.

Everything went black.

***

Dick sat in a chair in Doctor Leslie Thompkins' clinic, waiting for Damian to be declared stable. He himself had gotten his gas mask on in time, but Damian...

He thought that he had gotten his mask on, too. The fight was going well against scarecrow, and everything was fine, which was surprising. Since becoming Batman, it didn't seem like anything ever 'went fine' anymore. He and Damian had gotten pretty good fighting as a team, but apparently he wasn't doing a good enough job with that.

This was all his fault. He knew that with a certainty that gnawed away at his stomach.

Dick wished it could have been something more minor. That Damian would have fallen and twisted an ankle, or that he wouldn't have been thinking about it and would have gotten a concussion. But no, it had to be fear gas. And Dick had never seen anyone have a reaction to it like that.

Bruce, when exposed to fear gas, had always shut down. Dick understood that the most, the hopeless feeling. It transported both of them back to the moments their parents died.

That's why Jason had been so shocking to them: fear didn't shut him down. It made him even more angry, even more ready to fight. He was the one you really wanted in a fight with Scarecrow.

Tim was a liability, but not like this. What he was seeing no one quite knew, since he wouldn't talk about it, but the laughter... It was probably the Joker, when he had been made into his 'son.' Tim's was probably the most similar response to Damian's, in that manic, twitching way.

Cass reacted a lot like Jason, really. The fear forced her to move, to act... And then to run.

Stephanie had that same 'fight or flight' to a point, but less controlled. 

Duke broke down, more similar to Bruce had, and Dick did. He had explained that he saw his parents, but they were worse than just driven insane by the Joker's gas, they were violent. He could never fight back against them.

But Damian... He had looked disoriented when Dick finally remembered him, glancing around, twitching, breathing fast and shallow. Then, without warning, he reached into his utility belt. Thankfully, he had wrenched the batarang away before too much damage was caused, but what was done was done. The cut had been deep, and fairly jagged. Dr. Thompkins dropped everything to treat him.

As if on cue, that's when she came back into the waiting room, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "He's stable, physically, but we're going to keep him overnight. I'll let you handle the mental, but-"

"It was fear toxin." Dick explained, rising to his feet. "Thank you... Can I go in?"

Dr. Thompkins nodded. "Just don't... You know the drill, never mind."

He thanked her again before going in, holding his breath to prepare him for the sight. 

Damian was pale, but not too bad. His chest rose and fell evenly, heart monitor a little fast, but alright. The look on his face was almost peaceful. Like he was asleep.

Which, he was. He was okay. He was still breathing.

Was this what Bruce went through with him? The fist time he had hit his head hard enough to pass out? The time hit throat got slashed bad enough they almost weren't sure if he'd be okay? The first bullet he caught with his body?

Unsure of what else to do, Dick grabbed a chair and pulled it up close to the bed. If nothing else, he remembered how it had been all of those times he got hurt. Each time, he woke up with Bruce by his side, holding his hand. Waiting with him.

Damian's fingers were cold, but they twitched a little when Dick took them into his hand. He would be okay. They would be okay.


	4. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few moments of Damian's interactions with music, during the time he and Dick were working together.

1.

When Father - Bruce - whatever the hell Damian was supposed to call him - was the one in charge of his training, there was none of... This. He had expected him to get down to the Batcave in the morning before school, having eaten a good breakfast and having stretched on his own. It was not anything like he had ever experienced before with the Shadows, but it was fine. He did not mind it.

Instead, he was woken up at five fifteen by Grayson. Or, rather, he made sure he was up. Damian always woke up at five in the morning, no matter what. He reminded him to go get something to eat and be down in the cave at six, then left.

That should have been his first clue that this would be nothing like it was with his - his father. That would be just fine to call him, still. It was only strange because Grayson only ever called him Bruce. Or, occasionally, "B."

But when he got to the cave, the speakers were on. The only times he had heard anything through them before were when father of Drake had to use them for a case. Never... This. It was an upbeat song, but old. Grayson was mouthing the words, already having started stretching.

Damian clicked his tongue as he pulled off his sweatshirt, tossing it to the wall of the cave. "Grayson, what is that?"

"What's what, Dami?"

"That... Noise." His nose wrinkled. "Why are you playing it?"

"It's Abba."

He blinked. "Father?"

"What?"

Damian clicked his tongue again. "What does 'abba' mean in this context?"

"It's the name of the band." Dick clarified. "Not 'father' in Arabic."

"...got it." He scowled. "But why are you playing it?"

"I like to have music playing when I work out. Helps me keep a rhythm."

Damian crossed his arms. "I do not need music to help me keep a rhythm."

"Alright, that's cool too." Dick shrugged. "If it bothers you, I can turn it off."

"No, it is fine. I will deal with it. What are we starting with?"

"Burpees, once we finish stretching. Let's start off with five sets of..."

2.

When Damian got back from school - which he hated, Gotham Academy was the worst - he started to research Abba. The music had been strange to work out to, but not bad. The part that drive him crazy, though, was not knowing the songs. It was easy enough to put together the beat, but...

As he did his homework, he listened to all sorts of similar music, trying to prepare himself for the workout the next day. Surprisingly, he didn't mind it.

3.

The next day Grayson listened to a lot of the same music, so he did not have any research to do, there. However, at school...

Songs kept coming up in other people's conversations, and none of them he had listened to. It wasn't as if he had never experienced music, but... Never like this. If Damian was around music before, it was because it happened to be playing where he was.

But now? Now he was having to look up everything from Green Day to Carly Rae Jepsen to Sufjan Stevens. Some of the music could have been worked out to, and made it onto his phone (in case Grayson's died, not for him personally to listen to...). Other songs didn't fit right, and yet...

He found himself listening to music every day after school, as he did his homework. It was soothing, in a strange way. All he had to do was make sure Pennyworth, Grayson, and Drake don't find out.

4.

"Never really thought you were an Avril Lavigne kind of guy." Duke commented, after having walked into the cave. "Dick's looking for you."

Damian turned bright red as he lowered his weights, quickly walking back to the wall to rack them. Clearly, he should have remembered headphones.

"Why? Is there something wrong with her music?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what does Grayson need me for?"

Duke shrugged. "I don't know. And I just didn't expect it."

"What did you expect?"

He thought about that for a moment, brows furrowing, lips pinched together in concentration. "Something angrier? Maybe more punk or rock, maybe more rap... I really don't know."

"Show me."

Hesitantly, Duke reached into his back pocket for his phone. He would flip through songs and play the ones he thought Damian would like, and, strangely enough, he was mostly right. He wrote then all down, so he could download them to work out to later.

With headphones, next time.

"Thomas?" Damian half turned around on his way out of the cave, very late for whatever Grayson had wanted him for.

"Yeah?"

"Your music taste is not deplorable."

"Not deplorable?" Duke cracked a smile. "That coming from you, I'm saying that I'm awesome."

"Shut up." And he went to go find Grayson, still playing Avril Lavigne.

5.

"Pennyworth, why are there so many musical instruments around the manor?"

Damian had to ask. The question had been building up in him for a while now, more and more as he noticed them. Beautiful violins in exquisite cases, an old cello, several pianos... There were a lot.

Unsurprisingly, Pennyworth chuckled. "The Wayne family has always been quite musically talented. Master... Well, Master Bruce didn't come by it as easily as some, for certain, but he was quite skilled at the piano and the violin."

He blinked. "Did he play often?"

Pennyworth shook his head. "Only on occasion, and never really at normal hours. The violin in his study, that was the one he always played. Whenever he was in there, it seemed, he would end up playing the violin one way or another. And as for the piano, it tended to be a late night thing."

"Why?"

"I have to admit, I'm not sure." He sighed, shaking his head. "Master Bruce did many strange things, but... I believe it has to do with his mother. She taught him to play the piano, and thus it is an activity he highly associates with her."

Damian frowned. "Was he any good at either of them?"

"He was excellent." Pennyworth smiled. "Master Bruce impressed at every recital."

"...then his mother, Martha. Was she talented at music?"

And after a lengthy conversation with Alfred, he agreed to let him teach him how to play piano. Though, with how much he found himself wanting to learn, Damian wasn't sure who had to convince who.

37.

Dick couldn't imagine why Damian wanted him to go to the sitting room, let alone why he asked Alfred to tell him. Scenarios raced through his head as he made his way across the manor...

When he got there, Damian was sitting at the piano bench. Just as Dick opened to door, he begun to play. Dancing Queen, by Abba.

"Did you...?" Dick was at a loss for words when he finished, smiling wide.

Damian grinned. "What? Did you recognize it?"

He nodded, walking over to ruffle his hair. "You're great, kiddo."


	5. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a day of Dick and Damian training... Plus some bonus bike riding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The core workout, but in thirty second intervals, and with v-sit-ups, is actually pretty easy... Do what you will with that info.

"C'mon, Dami. Just a few more."

Damian glared up at Grayson, who was spotting him as he benched. "I do not need - you to encourage - me as I-" He sucked in a breath. "I am doing - fine."

"Yeah, you're doing great." Grayson reassured him, but held his body like he expected Damian to drop the weight. "Only two more."

"I can - do - two more..." He grunted, feeling the burn in his muscles, the strange numbness that set in after a while. "There. Finished."

Grayson helped guide his hands back to the starting rack, then began to put the individual weights back. "Alright, now we just have a little bit of core work, then we're done."

"I do not need you to reassure me."

On the inside, however, Damian groaned. Today's training had been hard; it appeared that they were focusing heavily on strengthening, despite his already impressive strength. From almost anyone else, Damian would have highly questioned that choice, or taken offense, but this was Grayson. He knew that he had his greatest interests in mind... Even if he had no clue what he was thinking. Or if he was thinking.  
Once they got all the weights racked, the two of them settled into some of the mats for core work. They were a much more forgiving surface than the rest of the cave's very hard stone (concrete?) floors, a luxury he had never been afforded before Gotham, but one he appreciated... Especially after all of those squats.

"Alright, we're going to do an easier workout, since the rest was pretty difficult."

Damian clicked his tongue. "It was not that bad."

Grayson gave him a look that called him on his bullshit, but he said nothing. "Okay, so, forty five seconds of each exercise, starting with crunches."

"Just normal crunches?"

"Yes, just normal crunches." He grabbed his watch, clicking a couple of buttons. "Go!"

The crunches were easy, almost laughably so. As were push ups. That was when he stopped knowing what the exercises were, though. They were not difficult, but...

"Alright, six inches." Grayson adjusted his position, lying down. "Lie on your back, hands under your butt, and lift your feet six inches from the ground with your legs straight. Got that?"

"Of course I've 'got that.'" Damian rolled his eyes. "And these are all so simple."

"They don't need to be hard, it's just maintaining." He explained, checking his watch once more. "Time. Okay, now crossovers. You move your legs like... Let me just show you."

Grayson remained in the same position, only this time moved his legs one over the other, switching between the two.

"Like a pair of scissors... If they switched which way the blades crossed." 

"That would be highly ineffective." Damian pointed out. "And quite impossible." 

"But not impossible for legs." He grinned, grabbing his watch and starting time. "Go!"

Next was 'flutter kicks,' which was in the same position they had been in, but moving each legs up and down as if underwater. After that, bicycle crunches.

"Just like riding a bike." Grayson commented. "Try to move your legs a little more..."

"Grayson, I have never ridden a bicycle."

His eyes went wide. "Really? Never?"

"What would I have?" Instantly, Damian was on the defensive, even as he continued the exercise. "It is an - old form of transportation. I would only need to if - I had to pretend to be a child."

"Which is exactly why, after this, you're learning how. Time!" Grayson stopped the watch, then raised his, crossed, legs into the air, forming almost a ninety degree angle with his body. "Alright, cherry pickers. Just reach up at touch your toes. And... Go!"

And they continued through the comically easy exercises. Whales, which appeared to just be a rest in disguise. Inverted abs, which looked cool but we're not difficult, and Damian had seen Drake do them before. Planks were extremely familiar, and very easy to do for much longer than their meager forty five second intervals.

"Rockies!" Grayson declared, sitting down on his butt and leaning back a bit. "Lift your legs off the ground, and twist at the waist, not just your shoulders. And... Go!"

After that was another set of push-ups, then v-ups, and...

"Alright, Dami. We're done with that, but now's time to teach you how to ride a bike."

Damian crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "Is it truly necessary? Almost no one in Gotham city rides a bicycle, even children."

Grayson shook his head, smiling a little bit. "I should let you say that to Jason."

"Why? What would Todd do?" 

"He used to ride a bike all the time. Not, you know, his bike, but in crime alley things like that can be pretty handy."

"I suppose..." Damian frowned. "A method of transportation that requires no fuel, is relatively quiet, and allows you to move faster than walking or running would be useful in those neighborhoods."

"Not to mention maneuverability and undercover value." Grayson added, gesturing for him to follow deeper into the cave. "Good thing B never got rid of anything, I think we still have a bike your size."

"Hey!"

"I wasn't saying anything about it..." He claimed, despite the grin on his face. "Only that an adult size, or even a Tim size bike would be too big for you."

Damian huffed, crossing his arms once more as he followed. While it gave some consolation that Drake was not 'adult sized' by Grayson's standard, it was still annoying that he was this small. It was ridiculous; he was even one of the shortest in his class. Height had never been an issue to him before.

"I will be tall..." He grumbled, squishing his face into a scowl.

"There it is! Knew it had to be around here somewhere."

The bike was, to be blunt, horrible. Damian had never really thought much about color be more coming to Gotham, to be fair, but this? This was far too much.  
It was painted exactly like Grayson and Todd's old Robin costume, down to a little scaly pattern painted on with a delicate hand. There was no doubt work went into the paint job, but...

Damian wrinkled his nose. "It looks terrible."

"I like it." Grayson declared, dusting off the top. 

"Good thing we are not the same person." He shot back. "The color does not matter, however. I will learn quickly and be done with this."

"Think you can just hop on and ride?" 

"Of course." Damian scoffed, walking over and straddling the bike. "It would be easy."

Grayson moved around the back, putting his hand on the back of the seat to stabilize him. "You'll need to put up the kickstand, first."

"Obviously." He claimed, kicking it up.

"Sure you don't need training wheels?" 

"Quite your teasing, Grayson. I am going for it now."

And it may have taken all afternoon, with Grayson stabilizing from the back, but by the end of it Damian was definitely riding the bike.

"There, now we are done with that."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Not a chance; we'll keep practicing until you're confident."

"I am confident." Damian lied.

He gave him a knowing look. "Alright, we'll work on that Mrs later. For now? Let's hit the showers."

"Fine."


	6. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dying and coming back, Damian has a tendency to just sit for hours, watching the rain.

Damian sat perfectly still, staring out over the manor grounds through the window, watching the rain fall. Well, Dick didn't know if he was really watching it. He had been sitting there for hours, criss-cross applesauce, breathing slowly, blinking only occasionally. 

He did this, once in a while. Ever since he had come back from the dead, Damian had been a bit...

Not ever since. That was a lie. At first, he had been doing great. Surprisingly so. They were all astounded by it, really, especially considering the fact that Jason was the only model they had for this kind of thing, and he was still adjusting to the negative effects of the pit.  
But Damian? He was laughing, talking, working well - more than anything, he was just living. It was good to have him back, and he really was back.

But then, the powers had hit. Those were odd, and, Dick had to admit, he wasn't around very much, then. He wished he could have been, but it just wasn't possible. It sounded like he had been doing pretty well even then, though. So what was going on now? What had happened recently that made him so...

Bruce had called him to come in from Blüdhaven and help out with Damian about a week ago now. While his job wasn't particularly pleased they didn't really ask questions.

But that was just the Blüdhaven Police force for you.

And over that week, things had been pretty much like this. Damian woke up in the morning, ate mechanically, trained, went to school, came back, did his homework, then... This.

Staring out the window, or a TV screen, as if he saw nothing at all. Rain was pouring down, dark clouds roiling-

Thunder struck, and Damian didn't move an inch.

After this, he would get up for patrol. He did that well enough, but Dick could tell there was no heart in it. Even though he was alive, it was still like...

Sometimes it was like he was still dead, just going through the motions of living.

"Hey, Dami." Dick sat down next to him, gently ruffling his hair.

No reaction. His eyes didn't even flicker. 

"How're you doing?" He asked, knowing better than to expect a response, but still hoping. "It's kind of a dreary day out, and I know that might be affecting my own mood a little."

Silence. 

"If I'm annoying you, I can go. I just want... I don't want you to be alone here, you know? I'm here for you."

Damian blinked slowly, but nothing more than he had been doing before.

Dick sighed, letting his shoulders relax. "I guess I'm just scared for you, 'lil D. You've been through a lot lately - more than anyone your age should have to deal with... More than anyone should need to deal with, no matter what."

Maybe his eyes closed for a moment longer than they had been as he blinked before, but maybe not. Dick clung to that idea, though. The idea he could hear him.

"And you're not alone. I'm going to stay with you as long as it takes for you to know that."

Lightning struck again, barely any time at all between the flash of light and the boom of thunder. Gotham weather, he supposed. There was never really calm before the storm, but...  
No, the clouds had let up again for a little bit. It was almost sunny a couple days ago, then it just got more and more gray...

Dick glanced over at Damian, and was surprised to see his eyes closed. They just rested shut, like he had fallen asleep, but his breathing was still very much awake.

"It'll be sunny again one of these days." Dick said, though he wasn't sure if it was for him or Damian. "I know it will."

Damian's eyelids fluttered, taking in a deeper breath before letting his head rest on Dick's shoulder. Just that, the little bit he leaned on him, made Dick realize just how small he was. He was too young for this, for all of this. It was horrifying to think that, at thirteen, he had died and come back.

Just because it wasn't the first time it happened with their family didn't mean it was any less horrific.

"I'm just so tired." Damian choked, his voice hoarse, his eyes closed. "It is like I am numb."

Dick wrapped an arm around him, gently rubbing his shoulder. "It's okay."

He shrugged. "Todd says he gets like this, sometimes."

"He does?"

Damian nodded, not lifting his head one bit. "It is just emptiness. I can feel, but it is as if I am underwater. Or in outer space... It will pass."

He flinched a little at another bolt of lightening. "I've got an idea. Would you be okay with trying something?"

"What does it include?"

"Well, standing up, first." Dick rubbed his shoulder. "But it's alright if you just want to stay here."

"No, I will try it." Damian decided, standing up slowly.

He followed. "Alright, now we're going to head outside."

"In the rain?"

Dick grinned. "Why not?"

Damian managed a weak smile, his shoulders relaxing. "Alright; let's go."

Their steps were slow as they made their way to the nearest door, but Dick didn't mind. Damian was moving, and that alone was progress. Sure, he leaned on him a lot, but it wasn't his actual weight. It was more of a closeness.

"I want to take my jacket off, first." Damian declared at the door, stripping off his hoodie and leaving it on the ground. "Alright, let's go."

Before, he would have folded it, even if it was just going to get left on the floor. It made Dick hurt inside to see just how tired he had become, how much of a toll death has taken on him.

But out here...

The gardens were beautiful, lush green in the rain, lit up by the various lamps and light fixtures... And the occasional strike of lightning. Raindrops pelted their faces, nearly instantly soaking their clothes.  
But Damian wasn't looking around, or really paying attention to the rain. He just walked out into the lawn, eyes closed, letting the rain fall on his face. Overwhelmed by the feeling such that he just stood there, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

It would take time, to heal. There was no doubting that. But the sun would come out again, and... And maybe the rain was good, sometimes.

"Grayson, I am freezing cold." Damian announced after a few minutes out in the rain, plodding back to his side. "Shall we go in?"

"Sure, Dami."

When Alfred saw them he was aghast, immediately sending them to change into dry clothes and going to prepare tea. Some things never changed.

And when Dick came back downstairs, Damian had fallen asleep curled up on the couch in his flannel pajamas, rain still pouring outside.


	7. Separation/Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Damian miss each other when Damian goes to Nes York with his new team.

Damian can handle himself, Dick tried fruitlessly to convince himself, pacing back and forth across the grand parlor rug. Besides, he had texted and posted to social media almost every day, meaning that he was fine. Right?

Dick still didn't like it. He had liked the idea of Damian having his own superhero team, but somehow along the way forgot that would mean he had to leave. And sure, he had friends to keep him safe, but at the same time...  
Remembering all of the crazy things Dick had done as a Titan wasn't helping. They got in, and out, of some serious trouble back in the day. If Damian's team was anything like they were, it would be the same deal. Even with superpowered friends, it was dangerous. Especially with superpowered friends, actually.

Which was, in all honesty, terrifying.

All the times they almost died, every kidnapping, every mission gone wrong - he didn't want anyone to have to go through that. Sure, when things were good they were the best, but when things went wrong... And now he was subjecting Damian to that?

Well, he wasn't. Bruce was, because he was his father, not Dick.

It had been strange, ever since he came back. Having Bruce back was everything Dick had wanted, and yet... Things were so strange with Damian now, with Bruce going back to being Batman, and Dick... Dick was back to Blüdhaven, as Nightwing. Then Blüdhaven got destroyed, and he came to Gotham.

Then Damian went off to New York City with his team, and... It was odd. He patrolled on his own. He trained on his own, without Damian questioning his music choices and talking about the dumb people at school. It was lonely, if he was honest.   
Tim was still here, but things had been so tense ever since he chose Damian to be his Robin even if they were on the mend. Duke was around during the day, and he was nice enough but they really just didn't know each other. Bruce was, well, Bruce as ever. Barbara was really busy with her work, so much so that the only time they really got to talk was when she was on the comm's. Cass was busy in Hong Kong, Stephanie was working as far away from Bruce as possible...

Dick never had problems with this before, but he missed Damian a lot. Working with him had been so much fun. He was almost like-

Stopping abruptly, he found himself completely taken aback. It was like... Damian was like a son to him. Tim had always been a younger brother to him, but Damian? He really did feel like a son. He had raised him... If only for a little while. He taught him how to ride a bike. He introduced him to old music. He held him when he cried, cleaned up his messes.  
Dick never really thought that he would be a dad. Well, not since his parents... Not since they died. Family seemed like a thing that always fell apart and got people hurt. After a while he lost that part, but after two relationships failed as badly as his had? Thoughts of having kids were out the window... Even if he wanted to, eventually. Following in Bruce's orphan-adopting tendencies without having a stable home wasn't his idea of good.

But it didn't scare him as much as he thought, for Damian to be his son. Sort of his son. He was a kind of son-little brother-nephew. That was probably the closest he'd ever get to putting a specific word on it. 

But that wasn't worth it to think about, because right now it was just making him miss Damian more.

***

Damian should have been perfectly happy on his own. He was raised to be independent, to be perfect, to not need anything or anyone. That made it sting far worse when he felt, strangely enough, homesick.

The manor had started to feel like home. It was so different from everything else he had ever known, but... At first, he couldn't put his finger on it. Now, he could recognize it as being loved. That was the feeling missing from the Shadows headquarters, the sense that he was aright. That he was safe.

It was strange.

But mostly, he missed Grayson. And Father. And Pennyworth. Even Drake, sometimes. He missed playing video games with Thomas and Todd, watching dumb TV shows with Grayson, playing pranks on Drake with Todd's help... Over time, it had started to feel like he was a part of their family.

Family. Before, it had such a strict definition. Family was blood: Ra's, his grandfather, and his mother Talia. That was it. Then Father was added to it. Slowly, over time, Grayson had wormed his way into that definition, and everyone else crashed after him.

As what, though? A brother? 

That's the category Todd, Drake, and Thomas fell into, though. And Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara were all like sisters, of sorts. Father was, obviously, his father. Pennyworth was like a grandfather. 

No, Grayson was more like a dad. Not a Father, and in no way insinuating a relationship between the two of them, but his dad. It was softer than father. Kinder.

But that made it sound like he missed his dad, which-

"Hey hey hey, Dami! Whatcha brooding about?" Jon flopped down next to him on the roof, without a bit of care. "You look sadder than normal."

"I do not look more sad than normal." Damian rolled his eyes. "And don't you have something to be doing?"

"You know I can tell when you lie, right?"

He grit his teeth. "I didn't lie."

"Really?" Jon tucked up his legs, cross-cross-applesauce style. "How?"

"I am not more sad than I am normally; I am always this sad, even if I do not look it."

He squinted. "I said you look more sad than normal, though, so..."

"Shut up, you are stupid."

Jon grinned. "Seriously though, are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Homesick?"

How did Jon always guess things like that right on the head? He was so clueless some of the time, but as soon as it was a problem Damian was facing, it was as if he was the expert. It was irritating, but...

He slumped a little bit. "Yes."

Immediately, Jon was floating two inches off the ground. "Really? And you just told-"

"Shut up." Damian rolled his eyes again. "I just miss Grayson."

"Which one is Grayson?"

"Nightwing."

"Ohhh." Jon nodded. "I mean, you could FaceTime him or something? Skype?"

"It is not the same."

"Wait! I'm such an idiot, I could..."

***

Dick didn't believe his eyes when Jonathan Kent, carrying Damian, landed on the back garden. He didn't believe it as he saw it happen, or as he rushed out the door, or as he hugged him tightly against his chest.

"Homesick?"

And Dick believed it when he said the only thing Damian would have : "Shut up, Grayson."

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are closed, but stay posted bc they could open?
> 
> Tumblr is Supertinywords or Supertinybats, and hit me up if you want to chat on Discord!
> 
> Comments are love <3


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